


Get Your Motor Running

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair considers the fact that he's not as young as he used to be.</p>
<p>First posted 2008 at LJ and Artifact Storage Room 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Motor Running

Thirteen years, five months and a miscellaneous number of days after they first had sex (not that Blair kept track of the date or anything) he and Jim had the following discussion.

"Have you ever thought of trading me in for something younger?"

Jim nearly choked on his pasta and salad.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you looking thoughtfully at the Viagra ads."

Jim's fork pointed accusingly across the table. "Yeah. You know why? Because I'm starting to wonder if I can keep up with *you*, so why you think I'd suddenly consider some twink with a thirty second refractory period is beyond me."

"But you are looking at the Viagra ads. Which might imply that I don't necessarily turn you on anymore." Blair knew he was being dumb, but he'd paid attention to what could be seen in the mirror that morning and fucking depressing was what it had been.

Jim wasn't often moved to extravagant hand gestures, but life with Blair changed a man's attitudes to certain things.

"If - if - I take Viagra it will be because I want to have sex with you, and I want to have sex with you because I like it. I mean..." Jim paused, lost for words for a moment. "What brought this on?"

Blair eyed the hired tux carefully draped over the chair waiting to be returned, and had a brief spasm of guilt. But he never could keep his mouth shut.

"The other night I guess. There you were, looking all distinguished with an admiring court of potential bimbos and himbos.."

"And looking around for you to come to the rescue, which did notably not happen," Jim interjected.

Blair handwaved this concern. "Yeah. But you did look distinguished, man. Nobody my height gets to do distinguished. And this morning I realised that cute was way behind me, and cuddly was about one slice of pizza away."

Jim rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "So I'm spitting my dinner over the table because you're having a mid-life crisis here? Christ, Blair."

"Thank you for your support," Blair said sulkily. "And for the record, so far my mid-life crisis hasn't involved a hideously expensive Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You didn't need Heimlich to cough up your food so you're getting off lightly."

Jim took a deep breath through his nose, and decided that it was time for his sensitive side to step up to the plate. Besides, Blair had been pretty good over the bike. Barbed remarks had been kept to the minimum. He rose and walked around the table and put his hands on Blair's shoulders.

"I could tell you that age doesn't matter, and that I'll love you no matter what, and we could have a fucking Hallmark moment. Or I could take the bike out tomorrow and you can sit on the pillion and we can try looking for our lost youth on the highways and by-ways of America." He leaned down to put his lips close to Blair's ear. "What do you say?"

"I'd say that two middle-aged men on a Harley is a terrible cliche. But if you want me on the pillion with the price of gas the way it is, I guess that it's no greater love, right?"

"Right."

Blair lifted his hand and Jim grabbed it and held it a moment. "Sorry, man. Whiney moment."

"It's okay, Chief. It's not like I haven't had some of those myself." Especially about his knees when the barometer got low, or the temperature dropped below eighty-five, or on days ending with a 'y'. Jim had found out the hard way that death defying leaps after runaway perps were a younger man's game.

Jim sat back down at his seat and started eating his dinner again. Blair leaned back in his chair, stretching his feet under the table in the general direction of Jim's. His chin was in his hand and one finger fidgeted against his mouth.

"So, you're worried about my insatiable sexual desires?"

Jim eyed him warily. "I never used the word, 'worried'."

"Interesting that the word you're denying is not insatiable."

"Take it as a compliment, Sandburg, and let it go."

"I don't think so." Blair meant the letting it go part. Jim decided that he might as well surrender to the inevitable. A sensitive lover/spouse/life partner knew when to offer reassurance after all.


End file.
